


Spice it Up (Or Not)

by WarriorOmen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Humour, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Pre-Movie, Romance, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, ambiguous timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: Sometimes, there's ideas. Sometimes they love those ideas. Sometimes they hate those ideas. The journey, however, is always lots of fun.And in the end, the fun is how much they love each other.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 28
Kudos: 206





	Spice it Up (Or Not)

Joe has seen, he thinks, pretty much every version of ‘sex face’ Nicky makes imaginable.

One he is _not_ used to seeing in this particular act is _petulant,_ but there is really no other way to describe the truly put-out face Nicky’s giving him, eye level with his cock and looking grumpy about it.  
  
Which-and Joe is hardly an egotist but he _knows_ this is _also_ not a look he tends to get during such acts, normally he _can_ consider and anticipate considerable enthusiasm.

Joe slides his hand down, finding strands of brown hair and stroking. “Something wrong?” Because clearly something _is,_ and he’s not going to settle with the way Nicky’s staring at him, displeased and irked as he is. “We can stop, you know.”

It’s a pretty much unspoken guarantee they’ve had for centuries. And it’s not like Nicky would _need_ reminding, but Joe is getting a tad concerned.

"This is incredibly pointless." Nicky says, hovering over Joe's cock, which is claiming to be 'cherry flavoured'. "The fun is that it tastes like you.”

“You were the one who suggested it.” Joe points out, teasing lightly, “If my memory of ‘Joe, this looks stupid, I want it.’ Is to be believed?”

“And as you can see, I was right!” Nicky retorts, exasperated, “It’s just some vaguely sugary nonsense that covers _everything good_ about this _entire experience.”_

He sounds _so offended,_ Joe can’t help but smile, fond and loving him so much. “Here, let me see.”  
  
Nicky’s already ahead of him, grabbing at the bright red bottle with it’s cartoon cherries on it, flicking the cap and applying some to his finger, holding his hand up to Joe.

Joe takes his wrist, drawing the finger in. Pulling his lips just so over the digit and making Nicky shudder, squirming against the bedding.

Admittedly, Nicky’s right-the stuff is vaguely too sticky and barely sweet, yet somehow enough to cover up the taste of skin in a way Joe finds equally displeasing. Working his tongue around the flesh to get to the pure taste of Nicky beneath. At a particular slow draw, emphasized with a little curl of his tongue around the tip, Nicky bucks forward, head dropping to Joe’s chest.

“Yes.” Joe says, letting his mouth slide free, smiling at the flush that’s blossomed across Nicky’s cheeks. “I see your point.”

“Bastard, incorrigible, _bastard._ ”

“Me?” Joe’s all wide-eyed innocence, “You’re the one who went into the shop first, _you’re_ the one who started making those _eyes_ at the shelves.”

“Truly, I know nothing of what you claim.” Nicky’s panting though, rubbing himself against Joe’s inner leg, distracting him a moment, making him hiss from the heat. “They’ve gotten so _creative_ now.” Interspersing his words with some short movements, Joe gripping his hips and rolling them over, grasping Nicky’s wrists in hand at the last second, pinning them above his head.

Joe can see the exact second Nicky’s thought process short-circuits, the way the oceanesque light in his eyes darkens to a stormy grey, pupils wide and blown, staring up and up, like he’s going to crawl inside straight inside of Joe, wrap himself around his heart and _squeeze_ his very _essence_ into each pulse.

“What’s happened to the innocence?” Joe teases, nipping at the jut of Nicky’s adam’s apple, pressing just this side of too hard before he lets off with a slow lick of his tongue. Nicky’s grunt sounded loud in the small hotel room, and intoxicatingly perfect.

“Died somewhere in 1099, smartass.”

“Only then?” Joe asks, and really, there’s no need to be teasing him so much. But Nicky’s gone pink straight down to the bottom of his ribs and Joe’s happy to lick it away, metaphorically speaking.

“I don’t recall any complaints from _you_ in that store either.” Nicky points out, and sure, he’s right-Joe didn’t have too many. It was hardly the first time they’d visited such a place, after all. Just the first time in a while.

Human sexual desires had not changed much, but their creativity sure had.

They’re both staring now, thinking back to the shop, Nicky raising his head and flicking his tongue across Joe’s nipple, eliciting a low groan as he starts to suck the flesh into his mouth, holding the nub between his teeth, tongue flicking.

Joe lurches forward, mostly without thinking of it, tangling his fingers in Nicky’s hair. “And he calls me incorrigible.” Joe mumbles, imagining he can hear the amused snort in his ear. Knowing Nicky would be doing just that were his mouth not occupied elsewhere.

Nicky peers up at him through his lashes, all dark and sultry eyed, and Joe rubs the back of his neck until he frees himself from his chest, displeased with the movement. There’s a protest dancing on his lips before Joe settles him down more, a hand on his stomach, the other still bracing his wrists above his head, applying enough pressure with his hips and fingers that Nicky stills, breathing him in.

“Well,” Nicky says, after only moments, “The flavoured lube is not quite the disaster the monster dildo was.”

Joe groans, head dropping to Nicky’s, noses brushing one another’s, “Must you remind me? I am trying to maintain a decent level of arousal here.”

“I’m sure I can help with that.” Nicky states, lifting his hips up just enough that his cock brushes against Joe’s lower stomach and pelvis, grinding into him slowly and drawing the light growl he relishes hearing so much out from Joe’s chest. Pressing into the rumble it creates.

“Obnoxious things like that belong in videos and videos **_only_** _.”_ Joe protests, “At some point, you lose the fun aspect and get only pain and disappointment.”

“If I recall-.” And sure, of course, of couse Nicky recalls, in detail, “You called it specifically, ‘obnoxiously impractical and pathetically over-endowed’.”

“It was _14 inches, and wide,_ Nicolò.” Joe reminds him, affronted, “Nobody needs such a thing, nobody.”

“Hey, we can’t judge.”

“Okay fine, _I_ don’t need such a thing.”

“So glad to hear I satisfy you regardless then.” Nicky grins, all teeth, “Weren’t you doing something?”

“Dunno when you got so bossy-“

“Birth.”

“Asshole.”

“I’d like to be having some use of mine, yes.”

Joe rolls his eyes, nipping at Nicky’s collarbone again, “Need I remind you, you’re still at my mercy here?”

“In a hold I could easily break yes, I-“

Joe tilts his head up, silencing the continued complaints and commentary with his tongue, slipping past Nicky’s sassing lips to find teeth and muscle. Nicky returns in kind, pushing just as eagerly into Joe’s mouth, pressing his tongue against his canines and rutting up against him with enough true impatience that tells Joe he’s legitimately getting antsy.

It takes so little to get the mood back up, but that never comes as a surprise. By the time they part, Joe’s growling lowly against Nicky’s lips, swallowing the sharp, low pants Nicky’s letting out.

The cherry abomination lube won’t do, and Joe releases Nicky’s wrists a moment. Both to give him a little break and to get what they need. Nicky flexes his wrists, but doesn’t drop them down, licking his lips while Joe fiddles at the nightstand, straddling his waist and keeping up soft little rolls of his hips.

The other bottle is white, boring but far more practical. Joe’s only got the cap open when Nicky makes a protesting noise, forcing him to turn back to him.

“Nicky?”

“Let me.”

Joe chuckles, soft and fond, passing the bottle over, easily laying backwards, arms over his stomach, stretched out while Nicky slides into the space between his legs, settling on his lap with his legs spread wide, picking Joe’s hand up and starting to coat them in the smooth substance. He’s endearingly careful, taking time to coat each finger liberally, eyes fixated and intense, before letting his own fingers fall away.

Joe takes Nicky’s hand before he can let it drop all the way, drawing him in until Nicky’s braced wide against his own thighs, staring up at him and licking across the pulse point in his wrist until Nicky whimpers.

“Yusuf, come on, please.”

“Shh,” He encourages him, other hand taking his hip, bending him back just so until he can slowly graze his finger across his entrance. He’s dry, and tight; so Joe works the lube against his skin in slow circles with his fingertip until Nicky’s rutting impatiently against his hand, sinking down against his finger when he’s had enough, all slick and warm when Joe slips it inside.

Nicky sighs, head falling forward, spine flexing where his muscles tense, then relax. Joe encourages him, slow movements that work him open, not enough to bring either of them to the edge, but pleasant.

There’s silence in the room a moment that drags on for a while, Joe relishing in Nicky’s soft grunts and light pants as he rubs and rubs, adding a second and, after a time, a third.

In the languid stillness, Joe keeps his eyes on Nicky. It never matters to him that it’s been so long, that he has centuries of this committed to memory and then some. For him, every day feels as new as it does the same.

He knows Nicky in every way. He knows his scent from battle, from sex, from showers and from sleep. He knows his eyes in darkness, in light, in dread, excitement and worry. He knows his grief, his love, his sadness, and adoration. Excitement, passion, fear, and pain.

He could count each tear that Nicky has shed, could recall each tone of his voice in every language they know. From the first he heard to the current. The sweet harmony of song and the rough gasp of drunk intoxication. He’s heard him yell, heard him scream. Heard his shouts and his cries.

He knows how Nicky tends to favour his left shoulder even though there’s no reason beyond psychological to do so. A spot Joe stabbed so long ago. So far back in another life. He knows how he likes to pause and do surveillance before they enter any new location. Knows he likes vehicles that move fast and has a fondness for roller coasters.

He’s seen those hands, so large and skilled break bone, wield a sword and cut vegetables and fruit. Seen them card through his hair, felt them map out each knot and ridge in his spine and ribs, felt them so deep inside himself he can taste it. Rolling into it. Demanding, needing.

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s not calling him back, Nicky’s just as far gone. So often they seem to share thoughts.

Nicky knows Joe in all ways and more. Knows that Joe still sometimes seems to speak ancient by-gone languages in his sleep. Knows that he tends to carry the strongest personal scent in the dead of night. That no shower, no soap, no life experience or battle has truly ever masked the delightful musk he has to himself. There could be a cologne out there that would modify it, and Nicky would bite and lick it away. Demanding and asking, _why take this from me? How dare you try to alter what I know and love so furiously?_

Nobody was possessive over a person’s scent, but Nicky was. Even if it was not so logical.

The softness of Joe’s fingers, the wonders of his touch. The beautiful grasp and flex across the hilt of his scimitar or a dagger. The way his voice shifted when he recited poetry or sang.

Who else would know that Joe used to spend so long in libraries Nicky had to sweet-talk librarians? Who else could possibly know the exact spice blend Joe preferred and that Nicky made effort to keep on hand over centuries? That he preferred cast iron cooking and the touch of silk and cotton in equal measure?

Nicky knew how Joe tasted, on his tongue, his teeth and beyond. Had it catalogued into his memory, his very own palette tuned and crafted for him. Joe liked to sleep on his right side the best and that he hated sunlight in his eyes. He loved his showers just that side of too hot and Nicky could reduce him to shreds with a single kiss if he placed it on the right spot at his hip.

Joe blinks, Nicky blinks, both shifting to let Joe’s hand gently slip away, Nicky licking his lips and changing up their positions yet again. A slow slide down Joe’s body as he grasps his cock with long, deft fingers, tongue flicking across the head.

Joe sighs, keeping the bottle in sight as Nicky gently lowers his mouth, drawing him in and in with a tight, welcoming suction designed to tease and adore.

“They make devices for this too.” Joe mumbles, more to amuse him and keep himself from losing it too soon. “Remember those? We saw them.”

Nicky can’t answer verbally, of course, but he draws a little checkmark into Joe’s thigh with his finger, which is so utterly endearing Joe nearly pulls him off to kiss him. Choosing instead to push gently into the heat of his mouth, sighing with his whole body. “Not necessary, of course, but interesting in the mechanical sort of way.”

Another checkmark gets drawn and Joe almost yelps when Nicky takes him all the way down without warning, the dark look in his eyes telling Joe the lil shit’s actually _smirking_ as best as he can in such a position.

“Fuck, Nicky-“

Soon, anyway.

Nicky hums around him, flexing his throat muscles, tongue flat as he sucks along Joe’s length, up slowly, down slowly, until Joe’s thrusting and can’t handle it anymore, pulling on Nicky’s hair in warning.

Nicky doesn’t tease, pulling himself free and letting Joe push him onto his back, a hand on his stomach to do so. Joe hovers over him, taking up more of the lube as Nicky winds a leg around his waist, encouraging him down.

As Joe pushes in, Nicky sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, making the flesh redden before releasing it as Joe’s fingers coax along his chin, slowing everything down to a gentle press to keep them both away from the edge.

“Shh, I know.” Joe murmurs, caressing Nicky’s cheek, “Breathe babe.”

It’s not that it’s too much, it’s that, even so long in, they work each other up to near breaking sometimes. He’s not faring that much better, cock throbbing where he’s sunk and tight, but coaxing Nicky distracts him.

“Fuck, so good.” Nicky moans, “Too excited.”

“Well, you’re not the only one.”

Was it even logical? Being so hopelessly in love, so utterly obsessed with each other even after so long?

They breathe each other in, Joe sighing softly as Nicky presses kisses to the fingers caressing his cheek and jaw. A tiny arch of his hips drawing Joe in deeper, making them both grunt and sigh.

But the moments clearing, and Joe starts to move in a slow, steady rhythm that doesn’t quite deliver enough movement, but plenty of heat and pleasure. Nicky rocking his hips up from the bed to meet him, moving the leg not wound about Joe’s waist out wide, encouraging him to take it, which Joe does happily.

Joe scrapes his fingers against the flesh of his inner thigh, dragging and pressing marks that fade in seconds against it. Pushing his finger at the same time he moves his hips, meeting Nicky in the middle as they rock against each other, sweat making everything slick and hot.

Nicky arches higher, until he can find Joe’s face, dragging him into an attempted kiss that is more a panting meeting of lips than anything closer to kissing, soft and sweet in its desperation. Joe presses further down, finding Nicky’s wrists again and working them above his head like before. Pinning him down until Nicky’s making garbled noises against his chest, then the pillow when he’s so overwhelmed, he can only turn his head and keen.

Soft, short, perfect.

He tries to say Joe’s name, but can’t quite make himself get the letters right, mumbling and gasping into cotton as Joe’s thrusts become harsh and uncoordinated. Joe’s curls sticking to his neck, his forehead, arms flexing with the effort it takes to keep Nicky down, stilling only when Nicky rubs against his stomach just so and seizes, pulsing and sputtering against him. Fluid coating his stomach and lower.

“Fuck, Nicky.” Is the best Joe can articulate, pressing further, fingers digging into his thigh with more purpose, Nicky’s internal clenching too much to bear, uttering one broken grunt that sounds desperate even to his own ears as he follows, aware, even distantly so of his own heat and shuddering within.

There’s buzzing white noise in Joe’s ears as he tries to extract himself, making it as far as pulling out before falling uselessly on his right side.

Nicky’s laughing, low and quiet, rolling over to insert himself into the space Joe made, dragging his fingertips across his chest, mindless of the mess between them.

“Hello, handsome.” Nicky says, kissing the tip of his nose. Joe grins sleepily, opening his eyes halfway.

“Mm, hello.” Joe tells himself he’s not yawning as he says it, tucking Nicky into himself. Only Nicky squirms away, rolling off the bed.

“Where you going-oh.” Joe huffs as Nicky comes back in seconds with a cloth, he probably fished from the laundry bin, since Joe knows he didn’t leave the room, wiping at his stomach.

There’s a fond, if dangerous grin as he cleans him that prompts Joe to ask, “What’s the matter?” Aware that he’s probably predicted the answer.

Sure enough, Nicky just keeps smiling, tossing the cloth to the floor and crawling back up Joe’s chest, a gentle kiss to his lips that Joe briefly returns, before Nicky pulls back.

“Nothing serious, just.”

“Just _what_?”

“You’re better than any toy.”

Joe can’t be bothered to roll his eyes this time, tugging Nicky down, tucking him under his chin.

“Babe, go to sleep.”

He falls asleep to the sound of Nicky’s snickering and the sweet kisses to his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know what this is, truthfully. I had the opening bit written ages ago, and wanted to do more with it.
> 
> I subscribe to the idea that they have been there, done that, got the t-shirts. This has no real serious plot, and is really just a lot of me having fun. I don't know what the overall 'flow' or 'tone' is either, and sometimes I think I'm funny.
> 
> BUT I leave that up to the reader, to determine. Some of the stuff they mention about each other is just headcanons of course, but I like them.
> 
> As always, self-beta'd and feel free to find me on [Tumblr](https://coffeebeannate.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
